


small is the trust when love is green

by reagancrew



Series: because when you're home, you're already home [1]
Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Established Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor, F/F, Foster Care, Found Family, Kid Fic, Lena Luthor Knows Kara Danvers Is Supergirl, SuperCorp
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-26 19:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15007823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reagancrew/pseuds/reagancrew
Summary: Building Trust:1.	Make promises and follow through2.	Be honest3.	Communicate about everythingMoira and Bellamy come to live with Kara and Lena. Trust is something you earn.





	small is the trust when love is green

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, the title is from a love poem. Whatever. Here's Wonderwall.

Tess Pearson drops them off at the apartment at 10:14pm. She knocks once, and when Kara opens the door, Lena physically restrains herself from reaching out, staying put by the kitchen island, visible but unthreatening. Moira is eleven and four months – that is what her file said – but she is tall and gangly; and with her hair hanging down her back, her eyes scanning the room protectively, holding the baby in one arm with three bags in the other, she looks years older. The baby, only eight weeks, is swaddled in a green blanket, but Lena can just see a tuft of brown hair, his wide, pale forehead. She looks away from him quickly, back up to Moira, who has stopped her scan and is now swaying in place, managing her load and the infant with care, staring only at the baby. 

“Come in!” 

Lena winces internally at her wife’s too-obvious enthusiasm. In every other instance, Lena adores her for it, but right now, it sounds false and too loud. 

Tess smiles at both of them from behind the children while she waits for Moira to enter first, and shuts the door gently once all three of them are past the threshold. “Sorry we’re a little late,” she apologizes. “Traffic…”

Kara is already waving her off, “It’s fine. We’ve got dinner in the oven still because we weren’t sure if any of you would be hungry.” 

Lena attempts to smile when Moira makes eye contact, but it falls from her face as soon as the girl looks away. There are dark circles under her eyes, but her shoulders are straight and she has yet to put down any of the bags. Lena thinks that maybe she should have stepped forward, opened herself as Kara does so easily, but then the moment is gone, and she allows her wife to take over. 

“I’m Kara,” she holds out a hand, and then fumbles for a moment before fiddling with her glasses when Moira stares blankly, both hands full. 

“Moira,” the girl murmurs by way of introduction. 

“And this is Bellamy,” Tess interjects, stepping forward as though to take the baby and show him off. 

It is subtle, but Lena catches it: the way Moira’s arms flex, the way her forehead tightens, and her weight shifts more to her left as though she’s preparing herself to huddle over the infant. Kara glances her way; Lena knows she’s seen it, too. 

Lena clears her throat, puts a stabilizing hand on the kitchen island, and manages not to wave the other awkwardly. “And I’m Lena,” she is strangely gratified when Moira looks up at her as she speaks, studying her. She is able to smile this time – a real smile, soft and open. “Welcome.” 

When Lena was a child, the Luthors had welcomed her with frosty glares and a game of chess; she’d loved the game in that moment, sitting opposite Lex and feeling only excitement at the thought of showing off to this new brother of hers. But thinking back on it, she knows she wasn’t playing for Lex at all: she was playing for Lillian, for her approval, she was playing to win herself a spot in the family. These children, tired and huddled by the door, will not have to prove themselves at anything to earn their places here. 

Kara lifts up onto the balls of her feet and back down, keeping herself from clapping in excitement – barely – and Lena’s smile widens as Moira’s stare moves from her to her wife. “Can I take your bags there, Moira? We’ve got your rooms set up down that hallway,” Kara cocks her thumb past the living room. 

After a ten-second pause in which Lena has to actually remind herself to keep breathing easily in the silence, Kara responds to her own question, “Or I can just show you, and you can take care of it,” her own smile never wavering. 

When Kara fell to Earth, Lena knows that for the first several months, everything was too loud, to sharp and brilliant, bursting in her wife’s brain. But the Danvers moved quietly, gave choices without pushing, options without overwhelming her, and Lena knows that Kara is determined to offer this same steady, unwavering support to the two children before them. She knows this, and she sees Kara _trying._

Tess is nodding, glancing at her watch. 

“Dinner, Tess?” Lena asks as Kara spins towards the hallway, leading the way without looking behind her, certain--in her own way--that Moira will follow, certain that if she looks behind her the child will freeze or disappear or cease to exist at all. 

“I would…” Tess taps her wrist against her thigh as though the watch is merely an annoying insect she can wipe away. “But…”

“Work,” Lena offers knowingly. 

“Yeah,” Tess gives her a grateful look. “What about you?” 

“I’m taking tomorrow off, and Kara’s off all week. Just in case. Moira will be in school of course, but we wanted to help them settle in as much as possible.” 

“Sure. Sure.” 

“I’ll try to keep a reduced schedule for the first week or so, but…” Lena’s started twisting her hands together, nervous that Tess will be upset at her unavailability. 

“No, for sure,” Tess repeats, rubbing the back of her neck. “Look, Lena, we understand your schedule – and Kara’s schedule as a reporter – and we wouldn’t have placed kids with you unless we knew you’d be able to provide what they’d need. Or at least,” Tess rolls her shoulders, glancing down the hallway, “try like heck.” 

“Right,” Lena is grateful for this gentle reminder, this much-needed reminder. “Well…” she looks down the hallway as though she is the one with the ability to see through walls, trying to check on her wife and the children; they have yet to leave Bellamy’s room – well, the room that contains the crib and a copy of _Good Night Moon_ and three different sizes of diapers because Lena wasn’t sure and Kara loves buying diapers apparently. 

“I’ll be off then,” Tess points down the hall. “Mind if I say a quick goodbye; make sure Moira has my number, just in case?” 

“Of course,” Lena leads the way, stepping a little more firmly than usual – letting Moira know that they are coming. 

Kara is half in-half out of the closet, and Lena can’t help the smirk that crosses her face when she hears Kara explaining exactly how _roomy_ the closet is, “I mean, we’ve lived here like two years now, Moira, and I still can’t get over the closet space in this place. Lena’s totally used to it of course, but I’m just shocked, honestly, every time I open one. It’s like Narnia in here. Hey!” She pops her head out to find Moira, who is standing next to the crib holding the baby, the bags lying at her feet, “You know about Narnia?” 

Moira hesitates and then shakes her head no, and Lena – the youngest CEO to hit the Forbes Under Forty List knows a lie when she sees one. She leans her head against the door jam, watching the interaction. 

Kara – sweet and honest and trusting – can also spot a lie from a mile away, but still, her eyes get wide as she barely breathes, “You don’t?” 

Moira bites her lip, then, softly, “I think I read one. Once.” 

“Well!” Kara lets a huge sigh of relief. “I’ve got the whole series, so you’re welcome to borrow them if you want to learn more about closets and magical worlds. It’s a ride, I’ll tell ya.” 

“Kara,” Lena interjects, knocking on the wall to announce their presence. “Tess has to leave.” 

Moira jumps slightly at the knock and then looks round at them, Tess with her phone and Lena, feigning utter relaxation against the doorway. Lena makes sure not to cross her arms across her chest, not to allow the lines to spread across her forehead. For the first couple of months that she lived with the Luthors, she’d look up from a drawing or her homework or a game with Lex and find Lillian, lips pursed as though she’d tasted something rotten, arms crossed in front of her, staring. Instead, Lena slouches, for perhaps the first time since she was a child, in the doorway. 

“You’ve got my number, right, Moira?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Alright, and you and Bellamy have all of your things out of the car. Kara and Lena live about twenty minutes from your school, remember, but they’re going to make sure you get there in the morning by 7:45. And I’ll call you to check in in the next couple of days. Okay?” 

Moira only nods. 

“Okay,” an exhale. “Well….”

“Let me show you out,” Lena offers, hostess outweighing the need to be near Kara and the children. 

“That’s alright,” Tess smiles. “I’ll text you tomorrow,” she puts her hand on Lena’s arm as she passes, squeezing once, “and feel free to call me anytime.” 

“We will,” Lena promises. 

“I mean it. Any time.” 

“Bye, Tess!” Kara calls before Lena can do anything other than nod. “Thanks!” 

“Bye, all!” And Tess is gone, disappearing down the hall and out the door with a soft click. 

Lena turns back to take in the sight in front of her – Moira swaying slightly on her feet, baby still asleep in her arms, bags still packed and nearly forgotten, Kara terrified out of her mind but hiding it admirably. “Moira,” Lena steps back into the room, keeping her hands out and at her sides as though to reassure everyone she is unarmed, open. “Would you like to unpack your things? Your room is just next door, and ours is the last door at the end of the hall.” 

Moira takes in the cream walls, the rocking chair in the corner, the basket of plush toys Alex had brought over the night before and blinks, as though surprised to find the room doesn’t contain a second bed. Kara’s glancing around, too, and Lena takes the opportunity to move next to her, to slip her hand into Kara’s for comfort. Moira’s expression doesn’t change as she takes them in, a pair for the first time in her presence. 

“Or,” Lena offers, “You can unpack Bellamy’s things in here, and then check out your room when you’re ready. The crib is there if he’s sleeping and you don’t want to wake him while you unpack.” Lena does not offer to help; she understands wanting to carry one’s weight, to hold something close and know that it’s _yours_ and no one is going to take it from you, not while you can protect it. 

She is rewarded with a nod, slight but there. 

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” Lena explains. “There’s chicken parmigiana in the oven if you’re hungry. Come on out when you’re ready.” 

Kara wants to stay; she holds her ground for the briefest moment when Lena makes for the door, but Lena keeps going, determined to give Moira her space, to let her explore without the hovering, overwhelming presence of two unknown adults. 

“The dinner’s good!” Kara offers on their way out. “We’ll save you some!” 

One more nod from Moira and then they’re gone. 

* * *

In the kitchen, Lena checks the chicken, and then turns and leans back against the oven, Kara stepping into her arms immediately. Lena rests her head against Kara’s shoulder, her arms scratching down Kara’s back and then back up again, surprised for just a moment when she doesn’t feel the miniscule layer of the supersuit. 

“It’s alright,” Kara murmurs into her hair, pressing a kiss behind Lena’s ear. “So far so good, hey.” 

“I’m exhausted,” Lena confesses, and Kara hums agreement. “She looks exhausted, too.” 

They’re whispering, worried about young ears overhearing them. The oven is warm against her back, and Kara is holding her firmly, gently. Lena relaxes a bit more, letting Kara take more of her weight. 

“When the baby wakes up-“

“I know,” Kara agrees. 

“And she’s barely said three words.” 

“It’s alright,” another kiss and Lena shivers. “We expected this. We’re ready.” 

Lena remembers two days earlier, her phone ringing just as they were finishing up dinner. Kara had been wearing the apron Winn had gotten her for Christmas that year: blue and red and a giant L in the middle, and her hands were sunk in the dish water. On date nights, she preferred to wash the dishes by hand, said something ridiculously corny and romantic about domestication and keeping a tidy house for her wife. Lena had been sitting up on the island counter, a glass of red wine in hand, watching, content. And then the phone, and Tess on speaker: _”Lena? And Kara? Oh perfect. We’ve got a somewhat urgent placement situation…”_ The pause while Kara had dried her hands and come to rest her chin on Lena’s shoulder, both of them staring down at the phone. _”I know we talked about just one child at a time, but these two need somewhere-“_ _”Yes,”_ Kara had interjected, before slapping a hand over her mouth and staring at her wife. Tess had cleared her throat audibly, and Lena could picture her at her desk – that same desk Lena and Kara had spent hours sitting at, filling out paperwork, answering questions, assuring the agency and Tess and themselves that they were ready, they were fit, they were certain. Tess continues, cautious after Kara’s outburst, _”It’s a girl – 11 – and her brother – eight weeks.”_ A baby. They hadn’t considered a baby… But Lena is nodding along, and Kara’s chin is digging into her shoulder blade. _”When?”_ Lena asks. _”Sunday night. We’ve got them in a home right now, but Sunday.”_ _”We can be ready tomorrow,”_ Kara tries, sounding panicked at the word ‘home,’ which is codespeak for a place with many children and not enough natural lighting. They hear another sigh, this one of relief. _”Sunday night. I’ll email their files to you now.”_

The dishes had languished for the rest of the night as Kara and Lena had read quickly, then again more slowly, and then spent over an hour staring at the pictures: Moira Carson – 11, Bellamy Carson – 2 months.

“Tess said to call if we need anything.” She brings herself back.

Kara snorts fondly. “Sure we will. You and me? Calling for help?” 

“Pardon me,” Lena protests, “I’ve gotten much better at admitting when I need…assistance.” 

“Sure,” Kara giggles as Lena presses kisses to her neck. “Says the woman who worked four eighty hour weeks in a row when the partnership with Wayne Industries for an entirely new, revolutionary national water treatment plan was in the works.” 

Lena swats her, pulls away to get tw – three – plates down from the cupboard. “Like you were any better when J’onn and Alex promised to hold things down for the next week.” 

Kara grins, twirling in to grab a plate and then popping open the oven and shaking her hips excitedly. 

“Do you think she’ll eat anything?” Sometimes the only way to avoid telling Kara she’s won is to change the subject to food. 

Kara shrugs. “I hope so; we’ll save her some.” 

“And Bellamy?” 

“I think Eliza bought us every possible kind of formula in existence, and Tess told me which one he drinks, so we’ll be ready when he wakes up.” 

“She hadn’t put him down once; how do you think she’ll be tomorrow when she has to go to school and he stays here with us?” 

“I don’t know, love,” Kara is serving herself straight out of the oven, the second pan might as well be wreathed in glowing lights spelling her name. “I guess we’ll find out in the morning, hey.” She cocks her head to the side, and angles her body towards the bedrooms, focusing. They’d talked about her powers, about not invading the childrens’ privacy, but Lena knows Kara is simply nervous, amped up and unable to use an actual Supergirl job as an outlet for all of her emotions. 

“Good?” 

“She’s got him in the crib, but the bags are still packed.” 

“Should we…I mean,” Lena glances at Kara’s heaping plate, “should we take her some food.” The not-knowing is painful. Like a boat lost at sea, Lena hates feeling so unsure. She wants Moira to have choices, to feel comfortable as though she is free to occupy the spaces in the apartment as she wishes, but Lena can see the girl’s thin face, the dark circles under her eyes, the way she’d held the baby one-armed without faltering. 

“I think,” Kara closes her eyes, “I think she’s asleep…”

Lena stares at her blankly, “On the floor?” Lillian Luthor would have had a fit if she’d ever tried to sleep on the floor. 

“Mhmm.” 

“And should we…leave…her there?” Lena is not worried about appearances, but rather about Moira’s ability to attend school in the morning fully functional if she’s been made to sleep on the rug in front of Bellamy’s crib. 

Kara shrugs, back to eating. “Maybe?” 

“Kara.” 

Kara freezes. “Should we call, Tess?” she suggests, staring at her plate. 

It’s a joke – a poor one – but it gets Lena to relax. Moira was obviously exhausted; she’ll feel more comfortable near her brother. If she wakes up hungry or in need of an actual bed, they’ve told her where to find both. It’s alright. They’re alright. But Lena still responds with a growled, “I hate you,” that causes Kara to laugh out loud brightly, a burst of sunshine illuminating the kitchen. 

“Love you,” Kara chortles. “We’re good.” 

Lena believes her; she always does. 

* * *

Before they go to bed, the chicken parmigiana wrapped and in the fridge with a note on the oven telling Moira that there’s a plate for her if she wakes up hungry, they look in on the kids. Bellamy is still sleeping; Tess had warned them that he isn’t sleeping through the night, but he’s out in the crib for now, one tiny fist curled and raised above his head, his face turned towards the wall. Lena wants to go to him, to see him fully for the first time beyond the confines of a 2D image, but she’s wary of the child crashed on the floor, a sweatshirt covering her legs, her head pillowed on one of the bags as though she’s fallen asleep waiting for someone to pick her up. Kara super speeds into the living room and returns silently with two of the throws, which she lays gently over the girl, and Lena feels a quick stab of jealousy that her wife can be so effortlessly helpful, before she feels only relief that Moira is safe sleeping on her brother’s bedroom floor. “Love you,” she whispers when Kara presses back up to her in the doorway. 

Kara smiles, her eyes reflecting the hall light they’ve left on for Moira, just in case. There’s a baby monitor above the crib, and Kara’s managed to switch it on, so they’ll be able to hear Bellamy if he wakes up. 

“Should we leave them?” Lena wants to move to the rocking chair in the corner, keep watch over these sleeping children, assure them that they’re safe, but she can only allow Kara to sway her gently, to keep her eyes on them, watching Moira’s thin chest rise and fall beneath the blankets, waiting for Bellamy’s tiny sleep snuffles to cease. 

“In a bit.” 

It’s late; neither of them have to work in the morning, but they do have to leave the apartment by 7:15 to make it to Moira’s school on time. Lena is certain that when they walk away, retreat to their own bedroom, she’ll lie awake anyway, holding her breath, feeling the way the apartment is already more full, changed by the presence of the two children that have so suddenly arrived to fill its empty spaces, its open rooms and empty halls. Kara must feel it too, the weight of these two new beings, young and small and so very alive. So together they simply stand in the doorway, watching over their new charges, content at last that their house is, for the time being, completely safe and entirely full. 

“In a bit,” Lena agrees. “In a while longer.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Have I got a story about trust for y'all. It's slow and steady and Lena and Kara are on a _mission_ , y'all. A mission called "parenting." Hold onto your hats. Moira may only be eleven but here comes some serious big-sistering, some semi-serious angst, and a whole lot of Kara and Lena demonstrating rock-solid love.


End file.
